Woody Guthrie Album

Come all of you cowboys all over this land,
I'll teach you the law of the Ranger's Command:
To hold a six shooter, and never to run
As long as there's bullets in both of your guns.

I met a fair maiden whose name I don't know;
I asked her to the roundup with me would she go;
She said she'd go with me to the cold roundup,
And drink that hard liquor from the cold, bitter cup.

We started for the canyon in the fall of the year
Expecting to get there with a herd of fat steer;
And the rustlers broke on us in the dead hours of night;
She 'rose from her warm bed, a battle to fight.

She 'rose from her warm bed with a gun in each hand,
Said: Come all of you cowboys and fight for your land,
Come all of you cowboys and don't ever run
As long as there's bullets in both of your guns.

Come all you old time cowboys,
And listen to my song,
Please do not grow weary,
I'll not detain you long.
Concerning some wild cowboys,
Who did agree to go,
Spend the summer pleasant,
On the trail of the Buffalo.
I found myself in Griffin,
In the spring of '83,
When a well known famous drover,
Came walking up to me.
Said, "How do you do, young fellow,
Well how would you like to go,
And spend the summer pleasant,
On the trail of the Buffalo?"
Well I being out of work right then,
To the drover I did say,
"Going out on the Buffalo Road,
Depends on the pay.
If you will pay good wages,
And transportation to and fro,
I think I might go with you,
On the hunt of the Buffalo."
"Of course I'll pay good wages,
And transportation too,
If you will agree to work for me,
Until the season's through."
But if you do get homesick,
And try to run away,
You will starve to death,
Out on the trail and also lose your pay."
Well with all his flattering talking,
He signed up quite a train,
Some 10 or 12 in number,
Some able bodied men.
The trip it was a pleasant one,
As we hit the westward road,
Until we crossed old Boggy Creek,
In old New Mexico.
There our pleasures ended,
And our troubles began.
A lightening storm hit us,
And made the cattle run.
Got all full of stickers,
From the cactus that did not grow,
And the outlaws watching,
To pick us off in the hills of Mexico.
Well our working season ended,
And the drover would not pay,
If you had not drunk too much,
You are all in debt to me.
But the cowboys never had heard,
Such a thing as a bankrupt law,
So we left that drover's bones to bleach,
On the Plains of the Buffalo.

I'll sing you a true song of Billy the Kid
I'll sing of the desperate deeds that he did
Way out in New Mexico, long long ago
When a man's only chance was his own 44
When Billy, the kid was a very young lad
In the old Silver City, he went to the bad
Way out in the West with a gun in his hand
At the age of twelve years, he first killed his man

Fair Mexican maidens play guitars and sing
A song about Billy, the boy bandit king
How ere his young manhood had reached its sad end
He'd a notch on his pistol for twenty-one men

'Twas on the same night when poor Billy died
He said to his friends, "I am not satisfied
There are twenty-one men I have put bullets through
And sheriff Pat Garrett must make twenty-two"

Now this is how Billy, the kid met his fate
The bright moon was shining, the hour was late
Shot down by Pat Garrett who once was his friend
The young outlaw's life had now come to its end

There's many a man with a face fine and fair
Who starts out in life with a chance to be square
But just like poor Billy, he wanders astray
And loses his life in the very same way

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If you'll gather 'round me, children,
A story I will tell
'Bout Pretty Boy Floyd, an outlaw,
Oklahoma knew him well.

It was in the town of Shawnee,
A Saturday afternoon,
His wife beside him in his wagon
As into town they rode.

There a deputy sheriff approached him
In a manner rather rude,
Vulgar words of anger,
An' his wife she overheard.

Pretty Boy grabbed a log chain,
And the deputy grabbed his gun;
In the fight that followed
He laid that deputy down.

Then he took to the trees and timber
To live a life of shame;
Every crime in Oklahoma
Was added to his name.

But a many a starving farmer
The same old story told
How the outlaw paid their mortgage
And saved their little homes.

Others tell you 'bout a stranger
That come to beg a meal,
Underneath his napkin
Left a thousand dollar bill.

It was in Oklahoma City,
It was on a Christmas Day,
There was a whole car load of groceries
Come with a note to say:

Well, you say that I'm an outlaw,
You say that I'm a thief.
Here's a Christmas dinner
For the families on relief.

Yes, as through this world I've wandered
I've seen lots of funny men;
Some will rob you with a six-gun,
And some with a fountain pen.

And as through your life you travel,
Yes, as through your life you roam,
You won't never see an outlaw
Drive a family from their home.

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Oh, little doggies,
It's your misfortune and not of my own.
Whoop-ee-ti-yi-o get along little doggies,
You know that Wyoming will be your new home.

A cattle trail drunk and a hard road to travel,
That old Jack O' Diamonds is a hard card to play.
Get along, get along, get along little doggies,
Get along little doggies and be on your way.

Whoop-ee-ti-yi-o get along little doggies,
It's your misfortune and not of my own.
Whoop-ee-ti-yi-o get along little doggies,
You know that Wyoming will be your new home.

Some boys have bit this old cow trail for pleasure,
But that's where they get it most awfully wrong.
I wish I could tell you the troubles they give us,
As we go rolling these doggies along.

Whoop-ee-ti-yi-o get along little doggies,
It's your misfortune and not of my own.
Whoop-ee-ti-yi-o get along little doggies,
You know that Wyoming will be your new home.

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I danced all night with a bottle in my hand!
bottle in my hand, bottle in my hand
I danced all night with a bottle in my hand!
And we danced in the light of the moon!

I danced with a gal with a hole in her stockin!
and her heel kept a-knockin and her toes kept a-rockin
I danced with a gal with a hole in her stockin
And we danced by the light of the moon!

I danced all night with a bottle in my hand!
bottle in my hand, bottle in my hand
I danced all night with a bottle in my hand!
And we danced in the light of the moon!

I got a gal that lives on the hill!
Lives on the hill, lives on the hill!
Ive got a gal that lives on the hill!
Tell me wont ya come out tonight?!

The bootlegger's daughter and i love her still!
lover her still, lover her still!
The bootlegger's daughter and i love her still!
Tell me wont ya come out tonight!?

I danced all night with a bottle in my hand!
bottle in my hand, bottle in my hand
I danced all night with a bottle in my hand!
And we danced in the light of the moon!

Hurry up go 'n don't go slow!
Here you go 'n dont go slow!
There you go kickin up snow!
Hurry up go and on you go!

I went up and she went down!
swing that gal round round!
right wing up! left wing down!
you just go a-kickin at the floor!

I danced all night with a bottle in my hand!
bottle in my hand, bottle in my hand
I danced all night with a bottle in my hand!
And we danced in the light of the moon!

Ride around, little doggy, ride around them slow,
They're fiery and snuffy and rarin' to go

Ride around, little doggy, ride around them slow,
They're fiery and snuffy and rarin' to go

Old Bill Jones had a daughter and a son,
Son went to college, and the daughter went wrong
His wife got killed in a free-for-all fight
But still he keeps singing from morning 'til night

Ride around, little doggy, ride around them slow,
They're fiery and snuffy and rarin' to go

I'll ride the old Paint, lead the old Dan
Go to Montana to throw the houlihan,
I'll feed them in the coulees, water in the draw
Tails are all matted, their backs are all raw

Ride around, little doggy, ride around them slow,
They're fiery and snuffy and rarin' to go

I worked in the town, I worked on the farm
All I gotta show t'is this muscle in my arm
Blisters on my feet, callus on my hands
Goin' to Montana to throw the houlihan

Ride around, little doggy, ride around them slow,
They're fiery and snuffy and rarin' to go

Well, the new sher'ff wrote me a letter,
Yes, the new sher'ff wrote me a letter:
Come up and see me dead or alive,
Come up and see me dead or alive.
Dead or alive it's a hard road; it's a hard road dead or alive.

Well, he even sent me my picture:
Yes, he even sent me my picture;
How do I look, boys, dead or alive?
How do I look, boys, dead or alive?
Dead or alive it's a hard road; it's a hard road dead or alive.

Well, he said he would pay expenses:
Yes, he said he would pay expenses;
Dead or alive, no thank!
New sheriff, I'm a poor boy
Dead or alive it's a hard road; it's a hard road dead or alive.

Well, he said he would feed and clothe me;
Yes, mhe said he would feed and clothe me;
Dead or alive, no thanks!
New sheriff, I'm a poor boy
Dead or alive it's a hard road; it's a hard road dead or alive.

Well, I'm sorry I can't come, sheriff;
Yes, I'm sorry but I can't come, sheriff;
Dead or alive, no thanks!
New sheriff, I'm a poor boy
Dead or alive it's a hard road; it's a hard road dead or alive.

I don't like your hard-rock hotel;
I don't like your hard-rock hotel;
Dead or alive, new sheriff
No thanks, I'm a poor boy
Dead or alive it's a hard road; it's a hard road dead or alive.

I gotta go down and see my little sweet thing;
Gonna go down and see my little sweet thing;
Dead or alive, yes, Lord!
No thanks, new sheriff.
Dead or alive it's a hard road; it's a hard road dead or alive.

Did you ever see a hangman tie a hangknot?
Did you ever see a hangman tie a hangknot?
I've seen it many a time and he winds, he winds,
After thirteen times he's got a hangknot.

Tell me will that hangknot slip, no it will not,
Will that hangknot slip, no it will not.
Slip around your neck, but it won't slip back again
Hangknot, hangknot, that hangknot.

Did you ever lose your father on a hangknot?
Did you ever lose your father on a hangknot?
They hung him from a pole, and they shot him full of holes,
Left him there to rot on that hangknot.

Tell me who makes the laws for that hangknot?
Who makes the laws for that hangknot?
Who says who will go to the calaboose?
Get the hangman's noose on a hangknot.

I don't know who makes the law for that hangknot.
I don't know who makes the law for that hangknot.
But the bones of many a men are whistling in the wind,
Just because they tied their laws with a hangknot.

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The lonesomest sound, boys,
I ever heard sound, boys,
On the stroke of midnight,
Hear the curfew blow.

My buddy will hang, boys,
On the hangman's rope, boys,
On the Gallus Pole, boys,
When the curfew blows.

Hear the curfew blowing,
Hear the curfew blowing,
In the coal black midnight,
Hear the curfew blow.

The sheriff's men, boys,
Are on my trail, boys,
In the midnight wind, boys,
Hear the curfew blow.

And when they catch me,
My body will hang, boys,
On the Gallus Pole, boys,
When the curfew blows.

Hear the curfew blowing,
Hear the curfew blowing,
In the coal black midnight,
Hear the curfew blow.

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I'm blowin' down this old dusty road
I'm a-blowin' down this old dusty road
I'm a-blowin' down this old dusty road, Lord, Lord
An' I ain't a-gonna be treated this a-way

I'm a-goin' where the water taste like wine
I'm a-goin' where the water taste like wine
I'm a-goin' where the water taste like wine, Lord
An' I ain't a-gonna be treated this way

I'm a-goin' where the dust storms never blow
I'm a-goin' where them dust storms never blow
I'm a-goin' where them dust storms never blow, blow, blow
An' I ain't a-gonna be treated this way

They say I'm a dust bowl refugee
Yes, they say I'm a dust bowl refugee
They say I'm a dust bowl refugee, Lord, Lord
But I ain't a-gonna be treated this way

I'm a-lookin' for a job at honest pay
I'm a-lookin' for a job at honest pay
I'm a-lookin' for a job at honest pay, Lord, Lord
An' I ain't a-gonna be treated this way

My children need three square meals a day
Now, my children need three square meals a day
My children need three square meals a day, Lord
An' I ain't a-gonna be treated this way

It takes a ten-dollar shoe to fit my feet
It takes a ten-dollar shoe to fit my feet
It takes a ten-dollar shoe to fit my feet, Lord, Lord
An' I ain't a-gonna be treated this way

Your a-two-dollar shoe hurts my feet
Your two-dollar shoe hurts my feet
Yes, your two-dollar shoe hurts my feet, Lord, Lord
An' I ain't a-gonna be treated this way

I'm a-goin' down this old dusty road
I'm blowin' down this old dusty road
I'm a-blowin' down this old dusty road, Lord, Lord
An' I ain't a-gonna be treated this way

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